The Other Woman

Author: Geonn

Rating: NC17

Pairings: Sam/Janet, Janet/other (past relationship)

WARNINGS: Non-consensual sex, psychological torture, lots of bad stuff I've never, ever written before. We're far off the beaten track, people, and I apologize if anyone is uncomfortable with this story.

Category: Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Disclaimer: These folks don't belong to me. I stole them from MGM's toybox without asking their mommies for permission. I promise to return them more or less unscathed. The characters of Stevens, Smith and Turcotte don't belong to me. They belong to whoever created "Boomtown." :D

Archive: Yes, just let me know where it'll be.

Spoilers: None

Summary: History can be rewritten, but it cannot be forgotten...

August 4, 1999. 9:44pm.

Janet held Sam's hand as they walked to the front porch of the ranch house Janet called her own. She reveled in the feel of five strong fingers wrapped around her own, the softness of Sam's palm against her own. It felt nice, it felt real, it felt right. She adjusted her purse strap and turned to face the blonde, smiling up at her. "I had fun tonight."

"Me too," Sam said, taking Janet's other hand now that they were facing.

They both took a step forward at the same time, smiling nervously at each other before Sam brought one hand up to Janet's cheek. "Can I kiss you good-night?" she asked.

"I'd like that," Janet breathed.

Sam parted her lips, tilting her head to the left and softly pressing her lips to Janet's. The brunette's eyes remained open and she watched Sam's closed eyelids fluttering as they kiss. Janet parted Sam's lips, taking the initiative, pressing her tongue forward into Sam's warm mouth. She watched the inner corners of Sam's eyebrows move downward towards her nose, her brow furrowed slightly. Janet moved her hands, resting them on the lapels of Sam's shirt; above her breasts, but below her shoulders.

The shirt was silk beneath her fingers, the warmth of Sam's skin radiating outward. She felt the straps of Sam's bra and shuddered, deepening the kiss as she felt Sam's tongue playfully dueling her own. When they parted, Sam's tongue was still out of her mouth and it flicked up, catching Janet's top lip with it's passing. Janet moved her hands up, framing Sam's throat. "Stay."

"What?"

"Stay."

Sam tensed slightly, eyes wide. It was their fourth date and they had just shared their first kiss. Janet had dictated the speed of their relationship and Sam was more than happy to take her time. "Janet, we don't have to--"

Janet kissed Sam again, letting her eyes close this time. When they parted, Janet let her feet flatten to the porch again and opened her eyes. "Please stay," Janet whispered. "I need you."

Sam took a shuddering breath and stepped back, letting Janet get her keys out of her purse.

---

August 5, 3:03am

Janet ended on top, perched over Sam's sweaty body, kissing her way to the blonde's mouth. Sam whimpered, cupping Janet's face and rolling with her until the brunette was laying next to her. They embraced, naked bodies entwined, bodies slick with their exertions, and Sam finally kissed Janet's lips again. They both moaned into the kiss and, when Sam pulled back, she saw Janet was crying. She brushed the tears with the pad of her thumb and hoarsely asked, "Do you regret what we did?"

"No, Sam," Janet said firmly. "No. Never think that." She kissed Sam hard, pressing against her. "It's just that..." She closed her eyes. "You're my first."

"You were married," Sam said, confused. "Oh. Your first woman?"

Janet nodded.

"I'm honored," Sam said, kissing the back of Janet's hand.

Janet pressed against Sam's body, cradling her head against her lover's shoulder. "Hold me," she implored. Sam complied, holding as tight as she could.

---

July 16, 2002. 11:32am.

Janet wore glasses at home, for reading and to watch TV. She didn't need them to drive, so she claimed, but in private they were a constant presence. She sat on the couch, thumbing through a magazine, legs tucked underneath herself. As she turned the page, the doorbell rang and she sighed. She was home alone, so there was no hope of yelling "door!" and hoping someone else answered. She reluctantly uncurled herself from the couch and rose, walking to the front door and announcing, "Coming!"

She adjusted her sweater in the hallway mirror, then pulled open the door with a pre-emptive smile to her guest. The smile faded when she saw who stood on her front stoop.

"Janet Fraiser," the blonde said, absently sweeping at the curtain of blonde hair covering her right eye. She stuck out a hip, leaning her head to the side and smiling brightly. "You took his name?"

Janet couldn't speak, couldn't find her words.

The woman stepped forward. "Come on, Janet," she said. "Don't you have anything to say to your first lover?"

Janet swallowed, her throat tight, and she finally said, "Hello, Constance."

"Hey," the blonde said. "Can I come in?"

'No, no, God, no, get out of my life, get back in your goddamn car and drive until you hit ocean.' Janet blinked, reaching up and pulling off her glasses. She licked her lips, wishing Sam was home... wishing anyone was there for her. Finally, she decided to tell Constance to get lost.

It came out as: "S-sure. Come in."

---

July 16, 2002. 4:01pm.

Sam picked up her cell phone, keeping her eyes on traffic as she slowed for a red light. She glanced at the display, smiling at the name that appeared. She thumbed the answer button and tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder, "Hey, Janet."

"Sam."

There are certain words that can strike instant fear into the heart of another person or a loved one. Accident. Inoperable. Critical. Janet imbued the three letters of Sam's name with such strife, such pain, such anguish, that Sam's face immediately sank. Her heart lunged into her throat, giving her only time to say, "I'm on my way home." She dropped the phone and ran the red light, narrowly avoiding an oncoming truck. Horns clarioned in her wake, barking madly at her as she weaved her Volvo toward Janet's house.

Her heart was pounding, her blood singing through her veins like liquid mercury.

She was Wonder Woman. She would get home in time. Whatever the problem, she'd make it.

---

She burst into the house, seeing nothing amiss in the entry hall or the living room. She turned and darted up the stairs, her boots making deep hollow sounds as she climbed to the second floor. Her heart pounded louder, however, drowning out her steps to her own ears. "Janet?" she cried, scanning Cassie's room before she rushed to the master bedroom. The shower was running in the master bathroom and steam billowed out of the open door. Sam frowned and went to the doorway, squinting through the steam and moving towards the shower stall.

Sweat beaded Sam's forehead and upper lip as she leaned into the shower. Janet was standing against the far wall, fully clothed in a soaked blouse and jeans, holding herself tightly. Sam stepped into the stall and felt the burning drops pelt her shoulders and back. It burned, felt like the drops were going through her clothes. "Janet?" she asked, blocking the petite woman from the assault of the shower.

The tear-filled brown eyes turned up, locking on Sam and her lower lip trembled.

"I'm here," Sam assured her. Janet embraced Sam, holding her tightly and finally began to sob. Sam pet her lovers hair, holding her tight, wondering what the hell had happened. She eased Janet from the shower and removed her sopping clothes. As she pulled the blouse down the other woman's arms, she noticed a yellow and ugly bruise just above her lover's right elbow. "Janet?" Sam said, dropping to one knee. "What happened? Can you tell me what happened?"

Janet raised her eyes to Sam, sad eyes that betrayed hurt deeper than Sam knew how to heal.

"Just rest, baby," Sam murmured, laying Janet down on the covers. She would wait as long as it took for Janet to reveal what happened in this house. As she headed downstairs, she discovered she wouldn't have to wait very much longer for an explanation. She was sure the two policemen standing in the entry hall would clarify things.

---

July 16, 2002. 9:58pm.

Sam walked into the bedroom, watching Janet as she slept, her heart tearing in two all over again. She leaned against the door, watching the steady rise and fall of her lover's shoulders as she tried to come to terms with what the day had brought. She sniffled, wiping a hand under her nose, and walked to the closet. She found a pair of jeans and a loose blouse, carrying them to the bed. She found some underwear in the drawer of the bureau and knelt next to Janet.

Taking her lover's hand, she held it tightly and blinked away tears as Janet slowly woke up. "Sam," Janet said, relief in her voice now.

Sam blinked until the world was in focus again and she squeezed Janet's hand. "Hey. Are you okay?"

"No," Janet said.

"Can you get dressed?"

Janet looked at the clothes in Sam's hand, then glanced over her shoulder. "We have to go to the police station, don't we?"

"They're already here," Sam admitted. "They've been here all afternoon."

"What time is it?"

"Almost ten."

Janet closed her eyes and pressed her face into the pillow. "I don't want to go."

"I know."

"I..."

"What?"

Janet sat up, taking the blouse from Sam in trembling fingers. "Where's Cassandra?" she asked.

"She's with the Prestons. She's fine, she's okay."

Janet slowly got dressed and stood, leaning against Sam. "I'm going to go to prison, aren't I?"

Sam's expression darkened and she lowered her head. "I know it was self-defense... but you still murdered someone." Janet began to weep again and Sam held her tight. "It's okay," she cooed, holding the brunette against her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it so bluntly. I'm sorry, baby."

"I killed her."

"Yeah."

Janet inhaled a shaking breath, turned her head, and looked at the bedroom door to make sure no police were eavesdropping. "Good. I hope she suffered."

There was such hatred in Janet's voice, such darkness, that Sam had to force herself not to release her lover's hand. She squeezed Janet's fingers and said, "Come on. Let's go figure all of this out."

---

July 17, 2:32am

The two men entered the room, parting when they reached the table. The tall black man stood in the back corner, while the smaller white cop moved to the front of the table and took a seat. "Ms. Fraiser?" he asked.

"Doctor," Janet meekly corrected.

"Dr. Fraiser, I apologize. I'm Detective Stevens." He indicated the black cop in the corner. "That's Detective Smith. We just want to ask you a few questions, get to the bottom of what happened in your house yesterday, all right?"

Janet pinched the bridge of her nose and nodded. "Is Sam here?"

"Samantha Carter, your... ah..."

"Is my girlfriend here or not?" Janet sighed, saving the men the embarrassment.

"She's waiting outside," Smith informed her.

Stevens asked, "Was she there when this all happened?"

"If she'd been there," Janet said, "she would be the one being interrogated for murder."

"You're saying Ms. Carter would kill for you?"

"I'm saying that Major Carter would've killed Constance Timmons in a heartbeat." She closed her eyes. "It was self-defense," she said, her bravado gone. "Please, you have to believe that."

Smith nodded. "We saw the bruises, Doc. We know something bad happened in that house. We just want to get everything in order before we decide to close the book on this case. Ms. Timmons had a family, a family that's very angry right now, wanting answers."

Janet looked at the two detectives, then hung her head. What she was about to tell them had festered inside of her for so long, she feared saying it out loud would diminish what had happened to her. Make it less real, less horrific. She exhaled and said, "Can I talk to Sam first?"

"I'm sorry, but no," Stevens said.

"There's no story to get straight, Detective. I'm going to tell you the truth no matter what it costs me. I just... It... What has to be told, I've never told to anyone. Not even Sam. And I'd like for her to hear it first, if you don't mind. She deserves to know before two anonymous cops."

Stevens looked at his fingers, watching the way they bent around the pen he held. "Aw, damn," he hissed. Smith glanced over at him. Taking the pen, Stevens smacked it against the side of the table. It broke, ink pouring over the detective's hand. "Broke my pen. Fearless, you got a pen?"

Smith patted his pockets and came up empty. "Damn," the big black man said.

They headed for the door. "I have to go get a pen. We're gonna let Miss-- Major Carter sit in here to make sure she doesn't slip away." He sighed and added, "My desk is such a damn mess it'll take me twenty minutes to find another pen."

"Thank you, Detectives," Janet said softly.

They simply nodded and slipped out. A few seconds later, Sam entered looking pissed at the world. The two embraced, a move made difficult by the handcuffs holding Sam's wrists together.

"Cuffs..." Janet asked. "Why are you cuffed?"

~*~

July 17, 2002. 2:10am

"Let me see her," Sam said, gritting her teeth.

The young cop, Turcotte, sighed. "I'm sorry, ma'am, that's just not possible at the moment."

"Do you have someone waiting at home for you, Officer? Do you have someone you love? Can you imagine if you came home and found that person shattered? What would you do to make sure she was okay?"

"Probably whatever I had to," Turcotte admitted quietly. Sam tried to step past him and he stopped her again. "But I can't let you."

"Then I apologize," Sam said, decking the young officer.

~*~

"Like we don't have enough problems?" Janet sighed.

Sam shook her head. "He's not going to say anything. He said that it was an unfortunate contact, unavoidable and not premeditated." She shuddered and embraced Janet again, looping her cuffed hands around the petite woman's head and sliding them down to the small of her back. Janet pressed against Sam, reveling in her warmth. "We don't have much time."

"What?"

"We have twenty minutes before those detectives come back. They want to, and need, to hear the whole story. But I need you to hear it first."

Sam pulled herself away from Janet and took the seat vacated by Detective Stevens. She drew Janet's arms in the middle of the table and held both of the other woman's hands. "I'm right here," she promised.

Janet took a deep breath and unlocked the big, steel door deep within her.

Chapter Two,
May 4, 1983. 12:02am

Ames, Texas.

The Eagles were on the radio. She had a cold beer in her hand, her first of her eighteen years. Constance Timmons was the blonde sitting next to her on the hood of the Camaro. Both girls were in gowns, but only Constance was still wearing her graduation gown. High school gone, ready for college, the Air Force Academy looming on the horizon for Constance, medical school waiting patiently for Janet Lass; the world was on hold for them that night. Jeremy and Tom, their respective dates for the evening, were about a hundred yards away peeing in a bush teeming with poison ivy (they would find this out not long after).

"We did it," Constance finally said.

Janet nodded. She was only with Constance because their dates were friends. She'd never spoken to the girl in school, even though they'd had several classes together. Now, they were in the middle of nowhere, across the field from a sign announcing they were now entering "Ames" (underneath, someone had spraypainted "FUCK AMES" in orange day-glo letters). Janet had taken off her shoes, her stockinged toes sticking up in the night air. She flexed them, smoothing her dress against her legs.

Constance slipped off the hood of the car, stumbling a bit and looking up at the sky. "Come on."

"Where are you going?" Janet asked, sliding off the car. "Tom and Jeremy will be back in--"

Constance took Janet's hand and led her away, through the field, away from the car. Janet followed the popular girl, turning and looking at the car as it receded in the distance. Finally, they stopped in the shadow of the "Welcome to Ames" sign. Constance turned and smiled at Janet. "Hey."

"Hi," Janet said nervously.

"I want to ask you something... can I? It's embarrassing, but I'll tell the truth if you do."

Janet was suspicious, but she said "Yeah, okay."

"Are you a virgin?"

"No!" Janet said, forced by habit and pride. "Uh-uh." She bit her lip and asked, "A-are you?"

"Yeah," Constance admitted. "You are, too, aren't you?"

Janet nodded.

Constance stepped forward and leaned in, kissing Janet's lips softly. Janet didn't move; her eyes remained open and her lips went slack. She felt something probing inside of her mouth and it took her a moment to realize it was the other girl's tongue. She pushed Constance away and resisted the urge to wipe her lips. "I'm not a dyke," Janet said firmly.

"Neither am I," Constance said.

"You kissed me."

"I didn't fuck you or anything."

Janet blushed deep crimson and looked away.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

"NO!" Janet said, heart pounding.

Constance chuckled and brushed her hand down Janet's bare arm. "Okay, fine. I wasn't going to do it tonight anyway. But if you ever want me... the offer stands." She winked and walked back to the car. Janet watched her go and Constance looked over her shoulder several times, smiling and winking the entire way.

---

Janet fell asleep in the backseat of Jeremy's Camaro. Constance, Jeremy and Tom stayed on the hood, drinking the rest of their beer and laughing raucously. Janet was the youngest of them and she felt like an infant for going to sleep. She woke an indeterminate time later, gasping at the touching. The hands in places no hands but hers had ever been. She felt Constance's fingers around her lips and felt warm lips kissing her ear. "Shh," Constance said. "Tom and Jeremy are asleep."

"Stop," Janet whispered.

Constance pushed up Janet's gown and touched the top of her stockings, her fingers tickling and warm. Janet squirmed, but she was pinned under the older girl. "Stop," she repeated, hissing as Constance's teeth closed playfully around her earlobe. "Stop." Constance bit down and Janet cried out, her complaints muted by a press of lips against her own. She tried to wriggle free, the material of her bodice ripping and exposing one pink nipple. She felt warm tears flooding her face as Constance's hands pulled away her panties.

Fancy lace panties. She'd worn them to prom hoping to have sex with Tom. He hadn't offered and she hadn't wanted to look like a slut by asking. She'd hoped tonight was the night. She wept as she saw the special underwear flung carelessly into the front seat.

---

Tom woke and rolled onto his back, staring up at the sky. He was groggy, drunk off his ass and not too bright to begin with. The Camaro rocked back and forth and he could hear his date's voice whimpering and weeping in the backseat. Too drunk to realize that Jeremy was asleep next to him, he assumed that Janet and Jeremy had hooked up. He closed his eyes. 'Good fer him,' he thought. 'Not like she was putting out for me anyway.' He scratched his crotch (damn, it was itching like a mother) and went back to sleep as Janet continued to weep.

---

May 4, 1983. 11:10am

Jeremy drove, wondering why Tom kept making those sly remarks about him being "a dog" and wondering how to answer his repeated questions of "how was it?"

Tom sat in the passenger seat, planning his move on Janet. The way had been cleared for him, as it were, so it should be easier to coax Janet to spread her legs for him now.

Constance slept in the backseat behind Jeremy.

No one wondered why Janet wore her graduation gown all the way home (so no one would see her torn dress, her bra-less breasts, the teethmarks on her shoulders and arms). No one asked why she kept crying silently. No one asked why she refused to touch or even speak to Constance on the way home.

---

July 6, 1983, 1:04pm

Janet lost her virginity to a very insistent Tom three weeks after their graduation night. She didn't mention Constance, or what had happened. He was surprised to find she was still 'untainted,' but didn't care as long as she was finally ready. He'd been ready on prom night, but she'd seemed aloof and unwilling the entire night. Her loss, he had told himself.

She broke up with Tom not long after they had sex, abandoning him for another boy. She let him touch her on the first date, went all the way in his backseat the very next day. She dumped him, too.

Just over two months since the night in the field outside Ames, Janet ran into Constance Timmons in the frozen food section of the supermarket. She felt awkward, uncomfortable, scared, worried... she shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot as she looked everywhere but the other girl's eyes, making inane small talk as she tried not to think about the blonde girl forcing her fingers into places no one should have touched.

When Janet admitted she had walked to the store, Constance immediately piped up with an offer to drive her home. It was no trouble... not even out of her way. Janet tensed, unsure of what to do, and finally, reluctantly, said yes. She and Constance checked out together and Janet walked to the car like a prisoner on their last mile. She got into the car and waited until Constance got into the driver's seat before she started to unbutton her blouse.

Sex with Constance made her feel awful, made her hate herself. But at least she felt something. At least she felt like something was happening. Every boy she'd been with had been unsatisfying, pathetic. Maybe... she had the wrong idea of sex. Maybe it was supposed to be like this. The only time she felt satisfied was with Constance. The only time sex meant anything was with Constance.

Constance watched her, the engine idling, eyes riveted, as Janet quickly undid the seven plastic buttons and spread the material apart. The blonde reached over, running her fingertips over the other girl's breasts, letting them linger over her bra. Janet was trembling, shaking like mad, her eyes focused on the car stereo. Constance closed Janet's blouse and said, "We're kind of out in the open here."

"Then take me home. To your home." She looked up. "Please?"

Constance smiled.

---

July 6, 1983. 4:43pm

Janet stepped into Constance's bathroom and looked at her nude body in the bathroom mirror, glaring at herself. She was shaking as she filled the water glass from the sink, filling her mouth and spitting the taste of the other girl into the sink basin. She refilled and repeated the gesture, unable to get the sticky heat from the inside of her cheeks. She wept, squeezing the toothpaste onto her tongue and relishing the burn. Finally, she picked up a pair of scissors that were laying on the counter and stared at the shining silver.

~*~

July 17, 2002. 2:20am

Sam gasped and Janet looked down at her lap. Sam gently took Janet's hands and pulled back her watchband, examining the tiny scar on the inside of the brunette's wrist. "Camping," she said, repeating the lie Janet had told her about the scar's origin.

Janet closed her eyes. "I couldn't go through with it. I went back into the bedroom, I got dressed and I left."

"But you went back?"

A tear rolled down Janet's cheek. Sam touched her lover's hand, her arm, her cheek, and angled her eyes up. "I love you, Janet. I did yesterday, I will tomorrow... I love you now. This doesn't change anything."

Janet broke down and put her head on the table. Sam rested her hands on top of Janet's head, allowing her the tears she needed.

~*~

July 15, 1983. 2:19pm

Janet lay next to Constance's sweating body, staring at the ceiling. She no longer wept after sex, she no longer felt the need to be clean. She just felt... numb. Numbly satisfied. It was a feeling she didn't get sleeping with the boys she'd slept with. Did that mean she loved Connie? That... that this - this - was what sex was supposed to be? She looked over at the blonde, who was sleeping soundly next to her. She watched the rise and fall of the other woman's body, watched her breath. With a hatred she didn't know she possessed, Janet whispered, "I wish you were dead."

---

July 20, 1983. 3:30am

Janet woke in the middle of the night, her hands cuffed to the headboard. Her ankles were wrapped tightly in linen, a sheet holding her to the bedposts. Her legs were spread lewdly apart, baring her to the room. She fought against her restraints, helpless, and whispered, "Connie? Constance, what's--"

The blonde appeared, nude, at the foot of the bed. She held one hand behind her back and the other was in front of her face. Holding a video camera. "Constance, turn that off. Please don't film me like this..."

Connie climbed onto the bed, a difficult move with one hand behind her back and the other occupied. She didn't say a word.

"Constance," Janet said, trying to sound firm but sounding like a wimp even to herself. "Constance..."

The camera's eye moved over Janet's naked body and the brunette squirmed, fighting against the perverse reaction she was having to this situation. "Stop it," she hissed. "Please, Constance, please, no... no..."

Constance's other hand came out, revealing what she held.

"What the fuck, Constance?! NO!"

The blonde held a revolver.

"Constance? Constance, are you fucking insane?!"

Not a word was said as Constance fingered the zoom and lowered the gun. The cold barrel touched one of Janet's nipples, then the other. The metal aroused the flesh and Janet groaned at her body's betrayal. "No," she chanted. "No, no, no, no, no. Fucking stop it. No."

A ring of ice moved to her cleavage. Down. Over her stomach. Down. Between her legs.

She was panting now. She was desperate. "No, Constance, please, for the love of GOD. Please! PLEASE DO NOT FUCKING DO THIS TO ME!"

---

July 20, 1983. 4:03pm

The bedroom was torn apart, sheets torn and pictures broken before Janet found it. The black tape was sitting behind books on the shelf, like an ugly little demon mocking her with it's presence. She took it and went to the VCR, making sure it was the right tape. Her finger trembled as she hit play, turning away from the picture.

"Do you want me to pull the trigger?!"
"NO!"
"THEN SAY IT!"
"I... I love you, Constance. Please, don't, Constance, I love you..."

She hit stop and violently pulled the tape from the machine. With a strength she didn't know she had, with anger she didn't know she could act upon, she tore the tape apart with her bare hands. She cracked the case, she broke the windows, she unspooled the tape and tore it apart with her teeth and fingernails. She scratched it, she slammed the useless black case against the floor until it shattered. Her fingernails were torn, her hand broken by the time she finished. Blood seeped from her fingers and she rose from the floor, shaking madly.

She was a prisoner of Constance Timmons. A goddamned slave in the space of three months. She went to the gun cabinet and pulled out one of the weapons that had belonged to Connie's father. It wasn't the one used to violate her, but it was one similar. She loaded it with the bullets in the bottom cabinet and walked to the bed, trying to decide whether to use it on herself or on Connie.

~*~

July 17, 2002. 2:27am

Sam threw up in the wastebasket, her back to Janet, trembling. Janet wept at the table, holding her face in her hands. Sam finally turned, leaning against the wall for support. "I would've shown that bitch no mercy."

Janet looked up, surprised. "You're... not mad... at me?"

"For being raped? For being used? Janet..." Sam returned to the table and held her lover's hands. "If you hadn't killed her, I would've found new and inventive ways of torturing her." She leaned across the table and kissed Janet softly. "I'm so sorry you had to face her alone today."

Janet sniffled. "I left. I found a guy that I sort of liked, we started dating... Constance backed off, amazingly. Paul could've made her stop if she tried anything, and he was as sweet as can be to me. And I felt safe with him. That was enough. So... when he... asked me to marry him, I saw it as a permanent escape." She sighed. "He deserved better than me. Our sex life was nonexistant, mostly due to me not enjoying it. He was sweet, lived with it... he never cheated on me, Sam, not once while we were married. And I adore him for that to this day. But in the end, I told him we had to end it. It had been three years since Constance had moved away and..." She shrugged.

"Go on."

Janet sighed. "Do you remember the first time I saw you?"

"You called me Captain Barbie Doll."

"I despised you... You reminded me so much of her, Sam. You gave me nightmares."

"I didn't know it was that bad."

"I knew you weren't her. But it didn't stop my mind." She covered her face and looked at the clock on the wall. "When Cassandra came into our lives and I saw you with her... when I saw your kindness and your love for that child, I knew that you were different. I felt so bad for how I treated you. I felt like shit, basically. I realized I loved you not long after that and... y-you know the rest."

Sam looked at the table. "When you said I was your first woman..."

"You were. The first woman I'd made love with. The first woman I had held with love in my eyes. The first woman I needed unlike anyone ever before. You were my first, Sam. Not my first lover, not my first woman, but you were my first love."

Sam blinked back tears and took Janet's hands. "Honey..."

"Yesterday morning. You have to know what happened."

Sam nodded.

Janet took a shuddering breath. "Hold my hands tighter." Sam squeezed. "Tighter," Janet said, closing her eyes. Sam complied. "I answered the door and Connie was standing there, smiling. THERE. Out of my nightmares, onto my front porch. My boogieman."

~*~

July 16, 2002. 11:33am

Janet followed the blonde into the house, moving cautiously. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice strained.

"Just passing through," Constance said, examining the living room. "Beautiful place."

"Glad you liked the tour. Get out."

Constance turned, grinning. "You grew some balls since I saw you last time. Maybe that's why the military is okay with you fucking a woman." She picked up a magazine off the table. One of Sam's subscriptions. It felt wrong and dirty for this whore to be holding it. "Or... I mean, they do know, right?"

Janet stepped forward, taking off her glasses. "Get out of my house."

Constance moved towards the kitchen. "Is the androgonously-named Sam home? Or maybe she's out. I hear there's a sale on flannel shirts and work boots down at Dykes-R-Us."

"If you don't get out of my house--"

"You'll cry?"

Janet tensed and said, "You're a whore."

"You're weak," Constance said, going into the kitchen. Janet followed impotently as the woman invaded the house. She paused by the fridge and examined the pictures. She took one of Cassandra and Janet bit her lip. "Huh. Daughter." She looked at Janet. "I would've expected you to be as fat as a cow after having a baby."

"Put down that photo."

"What's her name?"

"None of your business. I'm going to call the police."

"Do it." Janet bit her lip and Constance laughed. "Hello, officer. Yes, my former lesbian lover is in my house and won't leave. Would you pwease come help me?" She dropped Cassie's picture to the floor and walked back to the living room. "How old is Cassandra, anyway?"

Janet's eyes widened. "How did you kn-- Never mind. Just get out."

"You can keep saying it, but it won't work." She walked to the mantle. "Does Sam The Man know about you and I? She should thank me for all the stuff I taught you. You didn't even touch my clit the first time."

"You fucking raped me the first time."

Constance shrugged. "You came."

Janet walked toward the front of the house. "Fine. If you won't leave, I'll leave."

Dropping onto the couch, Constance said, "Okay. I'll say hello to Cassandra when she gets home. Congratulate her on that science fair win."

The final piece fell into place. Science Fair. Cassie had gotten first place and had gotten her picture in the paper. Naturally, she'd wanted her mother in the photo as well. She remembered clearly her amusement at the newspaper's misprint of her name. They'd used her maiden name: Janet Lass. Constance had found her, knew about her daughter, had invaded her new life, because of a goddamned misprint. She turned and walked into the living room. "I don't want you in my life. My flesh crawls thinking you're on the same continent. What will it take to get you to leave for good?"

Constance pursed her lips, tilting her head to one side. She stood and slowly approached Janet until they were within arm's reach. Janet's heart pounded as she stared into the other woman's dark eyes, eyes that hid the evil behind them, eyes that lied. Her pale crimson lips turned into a smile as she pulled something from her purse. "What will it take?" Janet looked down at the gun Constance held. "A repeat."

Janet stepped back, disgusted. "What the fuck--"

"One time. Videotaped. You ruined the last one and disappeared out of my life. I just want what you took from me."

"You're fucking insane."

"I know your daughter. I know your lover. I can make their life hell. I know where you live and I can haunt you until one of us is dead. And all it will take," she stroked the barrel of the gun down Janet's cheek, "is a repeat performance. Thirty minutes of your life... or the next thirty years down the tubes."

Tears slipped from Janet's eyes. "You'll leave Sam and Cassandra alone?"

"I swear to you. All I want is this."

"Thirty minutes."

~*~

July 17, 2002. 2:33am

Sam shuddered visibly, eyes unblinking and unfocused.

She remembered Janet in the shower, weeping, fully-clothed. She remembered the heat of the shower, trying to wash something away. She began to cry and lowered her head onto her cuffed hands. Janet continued her story in a shaky voice. "We did... what she wanted. It took... hours. She wanted me to come, and I couldn't. I just... I couldn't. Finally, I guess I must have climaxed or peed myself or... she stopped. I don't know why. But she filmed me... like that. And she got out of bed. I followed her, and I watched her as she... she went downstairs. I was in a t-shirt and I told her, I said to get the fuck out. She just laughed and put the tape in the VCR. She said she'd show it to you when you got home.

"She wasn't paying attention."

~*~

July 16, 2002. 3:55pm

Constance turned from the VCR. She frowned at the gun.

~*~

July 17, 2002. 2:34am

"Bang," Janet said. "Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang." She closed her eyes. "So loud."

---

July 20, 2002. 2:08pm

Janet adjusted her jacket in the mirror and turned, watching the movers as they angled the mattress toward the door. "You're sure ya don't want this bed anymore?" the boss said, watching as his men took it outside. "Looks like it's almost brand-new."

"Almost," Janet agreed. "I'm sure I don't want it." She signed his work order and smiled. "Thank you."

"No problem. We could come right back with the new one..."

"Thanks, but I have an appointment I have to get to. Tomorrow will be fine."

"All right, Miss," he said, smiling politely at her. "You have a fine day."

"You, too," Janet said.

Sam passed the man as he left, exchanging hellos as she entered the bedroom. "Ready?" the blonde asked, taking off her sunglasses.

"Yeah," Janet nodded, picking up her purse. She looked at the space where her bed had been, looping an arm around Sam's waist. Sam kissed the brunette's temple and Janet smiled. "Thank you for going with me."

"Therapy can be scary. You'll need a hand to hold... and I'm not completely untouched by this whole--"

Janet nodded and embraced Sam. "Thank you for being with me."

"Hey, I love you. Through thick and thin, beautiful."

They held hands and walked out of the house together. The 'for-sale' sign shadowed the front of the lawn, but they knew it'd be a hard sale until the blood was cleaned from the front room. They'd still have to disclose what had happened, but people took it better when they weren't looking at the bright red evidence in the carpet. Sam opened Janet's door for her, let her get situated, and walked around to the driver's side.

As she settled in, reaching for the keys, she noticed movement on Janet's side of the car. She turned and saw the brunette slowly unbuttoning her blouse, parting the two halves. Sam's eyes sparkled and she smiled sadly. Janet sighed, her bra-clad breasts rising and falling with the movement. "Car sex has always been tainted for me. Bad memories."

"Good memories will override it."

"Therapy," Janet reminded her.

Sam shifted in her seat and said, "This is a different kind of therapy." She touched Janet's chest, felt her heart beat. "May I make love to you?"

"Yes," Janet said. "Please. I would like you to. The therapist can wait a few minutes."

Sam kissed Janet softly, keeping her eyes open and watching the other woman sink into the kiss. She put her hands on the petite brunette's flesh, pushing her blouse off her shoulders and breaking the kiss reluctantly. "You know I love you," Sam said.

"I know."

"Are you still confused about what love feels like?"

Janet smiled and said, "I think I know... does it feel like... this?" She touched Sam.

Sam gasped, her eyelids fluttering closed. "I-it feels remarkably similar to that," she whispered.

Janet manuevered over into the driver's seat, straddling Sam. "Does it feel like this?"

"Yes," Sam whispered.

"Show me what else it feels like," Janet implored, her hair brushing the roof of the car.

The therapist had to wait more than a few minutes.